Chocolate Liqueur
by Mietta
Summary: My first try at writing fic! Lizzington. One shot. Based on a prompt from the Lizzington Shippers FB page. A scene that I thought could easily occur between the two of them. Just for fun. Enjoy!


**A/N: Fully disclaimed. I had so much fun writing this! I've never tried Godiva Chocolate Liqueur, but now I want to ;)**

She was tired. Bone tired. After working practically nonstop for the past three days, she was ready to crawl into bed and fall into a deep, undisturbed sleep. It was something she needed, but she hadn't been able to get it lately. Throwing herself into her work was the only way she knew how to keep her mind busy and wear herself down enough so she could sleep. Not that she minded it; work was the one thing she knew how to do at the moment, and do it well. Sure, they were thrown all sorts of curveballs and kept constantly on their toes—Reddington made sure of that—but she knew how to do her job.

Her personal life may be in shambles, but _dammit _if she didn't know how to do her job. That thought kept her grounded, kept her head from spinning with questions she didn't know how to answer. Some questions, if she was being honest with herself, that she didn't _want_ answers to. So the less she allowed herself to think and focus on anything but work, the better off she was. It was a dull existence to anyone looking in, but it brought her some semblance of peace.

Unlocking her office door, she flipped on the light and tossed her bag beside the desk, her eyes catching on an unexpected object sitting in the middle: a bottle with a bright red ribbon.

On closer inspection, she realized that it was none other than a bottle of Godiva Chocolate Liqueur. Obviously expensive, and very obvious who it was from, even without the note tied to the ribbon.

_Live a little._

She frowned as she read it, wondering what on earth he was implying. She was living; maybe not the way she wanted to, but it was the only way she knew how. He was much too concerned with wanting her to appreciate the little pleasures in life. How could she, when everything was such a mess? But no, she wouldn't think about that. She wouldn't let her mind travel down that path when she had worked so hard to keep those thoughts at bay.

Reddington…what he meant to her, what his role in her life, both personal and business, was…it was too convoluted and tiresome to think about. She needed to reach a point of stability in her life before she tried, and with all of the questions and half-truths between them right now, it just wasn't possible. While she appreciated the sentiment, she didn't want to accept it. If she did, she was afraid of what would happen to the little control she was clinging to.

She wearily sat in her chair and rubbed her temple soothingly. It was all just one big, unending headache.

She wasn't sure how long she sat there, but a knock at the door brought her attention back to the real world.

"Come in," she replied, thinking that it was Cooper or Ressler coming to talk to her about the progress with the case. Looking up and seeing who it was, she should have known better.

He walked into the room with the utmost confidence, as he always did, eyes traveling and taking everything in before stopping to rest on her.

"You look tired."

She sighed and leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms and giving him what she hoped was a nonchalant look.

"Why are you here? Do you have more information for me about the case?" she asked, dodging his observation entirely.

"I'm afraid not. How's it going?"

"As well as can be expected at this point. If you don't have any information for me, why are you here?" she pressed, and with a smile he procured a Styrofoam box from a restaurant and set it on her desk.

"I brought you a souvenir. Considering you missed out before, I thought now was the perfect time to remedy that."

She frowned and curiously opened it, overwhelmed by a sweet, delicious smell before she saw what was inside.

Baklava.

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. What the hell was it with him and his baklava?

"Baklava?"

"Don't look so surprised, Lizzie! You didn't think I was going to let you go on in life without tasting this delightful dish, did you? Besides, I'm sure it would go quite nicely with chocolate liqueur. You don't happen to have any, do you?" he asked innocently, but his eyes danced mischievously.

Raymond Reddington, Concierge of Crime and Master of Sass. Of course he knew she had a bottle of chocolate liqueur. It was sitting very obviously right in front of her, not mention he was the one who had given it to her. She felt his eyes on her as she pursed her lips and looked at it, carefully thinking about how to respond.

"I can't accept this, Red. I can't—"

"Can't or won't?" He cocked his head and gave her an amused smile. "I wasn't aware that drinking required any thinking. That's the beauty of it, Lizzie. It makes one blissfully unaware and carefree. Live a little."

She felt her stomach twist as she met his eyes. There was so much depth to his eyes, so much knowing, and she knew without a doubt that he had planned this. Nothing was ever a coincidence with him. He knew how she was feeling, knew what she needed. It wasn't healthy to throw herself into her work and pretend that that was her life. All work and no play put both physical and mental strain on the body, and one could only go so long before they cracked. She knew this, but it was the only way she could cope at the moment. Until such a time came that she couldn't do it anymore, she was determined to stick with it. She would deal with the consequences when they arose. Those thoughts kept churning in her mind, but she felt her resolve slipping as she looked at him. She needed to relax a little and let loose. She wanted to. But the thought terrified her.

"It's bad manners to refuse a gift. We wouldn't want that, now would we?" he questioned, and procured two cordial glasses, one from each of his coat pockets.

Of course he had cordial glasses in his pockets. Of course. She raised her brows in surprise, but really, should anything about him surprise her anymore?

He placed them side by side on the desk, and proceeded to make himself comfortable. He took off his fedora and set it down on top of a stack of papers, pulled up a chair, and hung his coat on the back before settling down.

"What a lovely ribbon," he commented as he took the bottle and opened it. "Made of some fine silk I'm sure. The perfect color, too."

Was he really doing this? Insisting that she drink with him? She watched as he carefully poured them each a glass and set the bottle back down on the desk. He lifted his cordial and nodded for her to do the same. She hesitated, her fear and uncertainty holding her back. But as she met his eyes again and saw the emotion there, she knew that for right now, it was okay. She could let herself go and not worry about the turmoil of her life. He would give her this moment in time. Support her, care for her, and protect her. He was not going to let her destroy herself.

And in that moment, she felt safe.

So she raised her glass, and he toasted, "To you, Lizzie. You deserve the best in life. And it will come."

She gave him a tentative smile and took a sip. The rich, strong flavor flooded her mouth and she closed her eyes in delight. It was good. Indulgent and good. She knew this pleasure couldn't last. Soon, she'd have to return to the real world, and all of her doubts would come rushing back. Her struggle for control would continue. For now, however, she decided to live in the moment and let herself be free.

"But Lizzie, it won't come if you insist on not trying the baklava."

For the first time in a long while, she felt a genuine smile cross her face. Perhaps it was time she tried this baklava of his. Besides, you were supposed to eat when drinking, right?

_Right_, she thought, and took a bite.


End file.
